There's a rumor that a sword obtained from the battlefield is more likely to betray its master than a sword that is forged under the order of the said master.

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro has never believed in such things until he sees the way blood – his fallen comrades' – soak the shoji screen, hears the sounds of swords cracking as the blades of his injured squad-mates clash against a Tenka Goken and feels chills running down his spine as those eyes – as red as those of the enemies he cut down earlier – land on him.

"Get the saniwa away from here!" He shouts to Gokotai as he brings his sword up as his squad-mates are being driven back.

The little boy stumbles with his reply as he drags their stiffed master away from the soon-to-be-battlefield with his tiger cubs hot on his heels.

He dares to look back one last time – because who knows if he can survive this – and sees the pleading look on his master's face and the way they struggle in Gokotai's hold.

"I'll be fine." He mouths through the unease feeling in his stomach before facing the battle ahead with a small whisper. "Hopefully…"

With a startle, he finds only Ichigo Hitofuri remained, blade locked with Mikazuki's in a midst of broken blades and the bloody mess on the ground.

He dares not look at the remains of his comrades as he charges ahead with his eyes on the traitor.

It is a dance. A beautiful yet deadly dance as one wrong move can cost a life.

He concentrates on how Ichigo moves, how Mikazuki guides his blade and how to place his feet lest he stumbles and loses his life in the frenzy.

Left… Right… Up…

Until a cry is heard and follows by a gurgling sound.

He brings his blade up as Mikazuki strikes down and Ichigo glances toward the source.

"No…" Comes the soft, disbelief whisper and it is enough a distraction that he tears his eyes away from their enemy and glances toward where Ichigo is looking at.

There is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he sees the shards and a white hilt that was once Gokotai and the fiery flame of the yari that stands over the tantou's remains.

There is a rumbling growl rising in Ichigo's throat as he throws himself at a smirking Mikazuki and he has to abandon his grief to assist his comrade, knowing they are the only ones left of this once homey citadel.

Ichigo is putting more and more power in his slash yet none meet their marks and he is getting sloppier in his fury as Yamanbagiri has to stop a few strikes leveled at him that can instantly kill a man.

He understands Ichigo's anger. And he knows that the same kind of fury is rising in him and will overtake him once he let his guard done.

Losing brothers – even if they did not share anything but the same smith – is simply agonizing.

The memories of better times – the time he shared with his brothers in this citadel – surface and he tries his best not to get distracted as he once again parries a deadly hack aiming at Ichigo's dominant arm.

"This citadel has fallen." For the first time since he first turned against them, Mikazuki speaks in that calm tone of his. His eyes glint coldly as he scans through the rivers of blood and the broken shards of metal he leaves behind.

They all know it is false. A saniwa is the root of a citadel. It will continue to strive as long as the saniwa in charge is alive. Tsukumogami – however – can die as many times as long as there is a saniwa to summon them again.

It is nothing new and they have heard many stories like that. Stories about how a citadel was annihilated by the History Retrograde Army with only a handful of Tsukumogami and their saniwa as survivors are common in this war-torn era.

"As long as our master survives…" Ichigo murmurs passionately as a cold fire burn in his golden eyes. As they level at the traitor. "My brothers… no, everyone will return."

Mikazuki let out a chilling laugh that is much, much different than the one Yamanbagiri remembers. "I suppose you do not know about the strength of the bond between a saniwa and their starter." He says amusedly.

His blood runs cold as he remembers the stories he has heard. The starter swords of those saniwa were always on the list of the survivors. Was it a coincidence…? No, it is probably a lie. Something made up to throw them off their guards.

"That's nonsense." There is a shadow moving at the corner of his eyes and he turns only for blood to splatter on his face and dye his dirtied cloak red.

Ichigo Hitofuri vanishes and the only thing left of him are splatters of crimson drops on the ground, on Yamanbagiri and the dull, cracked blade that makes a hollow thunk as it hits the ground.

Towering over the remains of Ichigo Hitofuri is the yari that had brought down Gokotai.

The anger that he has been reigning in is rising as his eyes settle on the yari that just ended the last of his squad-mates. "You…!"

His breath leaves him as a firm chop is delivered to the back of his neck and he realizes – too late – that he has turned his back to Mikazuki. His legs fail him as he collapses and dimly feels someone lifting him before his vision fades into darkness.

When he wakes up, there is only darkness.

His limbs are heavy and as he tries to lift his arms, there is a clinking sound of chains and a figurative stone drops in his stomach as he pulls on the chains only to find them connected to something heavy, which he discovers to be the wall after a moment of blindly feeling his way around.

His stomach rumbles and he wonders when he last ate. His throat burns with the need for water and he remembers the saniwa telling him that humans can last a month without food but can die of thirst before a week ends.

It is forever before there is a dim ray of light and something resembles a door open and he squints to make out the figure standing outside.

"Ah, you are up!" That melodious voice is familiar and it merely takes a second before the name pops up in his head.

Mikazuki Munechika... A Tenka Goken... The most beautiful sword... A traitor…

"Mikazuki." He hates how fragile his voice sounds and he would have snarl if he had enough energy. But he doesn't so he settles for a glare as Mikazuki approaches him with a small, dimly-lit lantern and a glass of water on a small tray.

Mikazuki's face looks deviously handsome in the dim lantern light and Yamanbagiri knows that if Mikazuki wasn't an enemy, he would gladly spend all day staring at that beautiful face, no matter how desperately he tries to deny that fact.

"I'm sure you're thirsty." The kind smile on Mikazuki's face looks out of place yet somehow, Yamanbagiri finds some comfort in it as if it is the only familiar thing in this strange place. "Here, drink." He sets the lantern down and pushes the cup to Yamanbagiri's lips.

Yamanbagiri stares at the glass and then at the smile on Mikazuki's face. "I'm not drinking that." He says no matter how chapped his lips are or how his throat burns at the thought of water.

"Drink…" The word is calmly said yet there is a cold fire burning in Mikazuki's eyes that makes him shiver.

He shakes his head and shies away from the glass, hands instinctively comes up to the hood of his cloak that somehow still covers his mop of blond hair.

He hears the clinching of the small golden trinkets on Mikazuki's clothes before his cheek burns with pain and he tastes blood in his mouth.

"Drink…" It is a repeat of the word earlier and the coldness in Mikazuki's tone sends chills running down his spine. His eyes shine brightly in the dim light of the lantern as the glass is, once again, thrust into his face.

Yamanbagiri scoots away and meets Mikazuki's eyes with a defiant fire in his jade-colored orbs and his lips form a fleeting smirk as Mikazuki's face darkens.

They stare at each other for a long time before Mikazuki exhales and picks up the lantern. "It is fine if you don't want this." He mumbles softly as his eyes drill holes into Yamanbagiri's face. "The next time we meet, you will be begging for it."

Yamanbagiri stares at his back as he retreats and the door slams shut, once again leaving Yamanbagiri in the never-ending darkness.

How much time has passed since Mikazuki's visit?

He idly wonders as the burning in his throat becomes unbearable. He remembers Mikazuki's words about how he will beg for water the next time they meet and he is sure that even though his mind is strong, his instinct – the so-called survival instinct – is stronger and will make him get on his knees to beg even for a single drop of water.

Mikazuki probably plans it. Just like the time he slaughtered all of their comrades.

So when the door opens, he does not look up, having heard the clinching of the small trinkets on Mikazuki's robes.

"Do you want it?" The question is gentle as Mikazuki looms above him and the lantern he had been carrying is set on the ground.

He nods, slowly and hesitantly but he knows Mikazuki has seen it.

"You are not an object anymore." Comes the firm reminder. "Speak up if you want something!" It is more of an order than a suggestion and Mikazuki lightly touch his head through the worn fabric of his hood.

His throat is dry and it feels heavy to even speak but somehow, he manages. "I… I want water…" His voice is small and far away like he is too tired to speak – which he is – and he hates himself more for being so pitiful but he can't help it. "Please…"

Tsukumogami or not, his body is mortal and there are things it needs to survive.

There is a small, amused chuckle with sadistic glee as the glass is thrust into his face and he gladly accepts it and brings it to his lips. "That's a good boy."

The praise causes him to nearly choke and he shivers under those watchful eyes as he downs the last of the water. There is also a forbidden thrill of being praised by someone else running down his spine.

How long has it been since he was last being praised for something other than his borrowed beauty?

"Let me tell you one little secret." Mikazuki tells him as he set the empty glass on the ground next to the lantern. His eyes drill holes into his face and Yamanbagiri resists the urge to pull his hood down. "There is a special bond between a saniwa and their starter."

He has said that before and Yamanbagiri has doubted him then. It was just something made up to make him lower his guard, right?

"Losing a starter is a tragedy." Mikazuki continues softly, eyes never leaving his face. "Have you heard of the first saniwa to die at the hands of the Kebiishi?"

That's new. He shakes his head. He has heard stories about how the History Retrograde Army attacked citadels leaving only a handful of survivors yet he has never heard about citadels lost to the Kebiishi.

The soft smile on Mikazuki's face is sad as he settles on the floor opposite Yamanbagiri. "They went on a sortie with their First Unit." His voice is soft as he begins the story. "They were attacked by Kebiishi. There were only two survivors. The saniwa and a tachi."

"Amongst the members lost to the Kebiishi, there was Yamanbagiri Kunihiro – their starter sword." His breath hitches and Mikazuki carries on like nothing happened. "The saniwa went mad with grief the moment the last breath left their starter. They tried to change the past. To revive their starter. Do you know what the Government did?"

Yamanbagiri has never heard that story before but he can vaguely guess what happened to that saniwa. "They got rid of that saniwa…" His voice is small as he sees the soft nod of Mikazuki's head.

"Good boy!" Mikazuki's voice is far too cheerful, too forced as he lets out a laugh. "That citadel was disbanded and the tsukumogami's souls faded away as their bodies become too rotten to reside in."

"What is your point of this story?" Yamanbagiri rudely interrupts. They are at war. Deaths are inevitable.

Mikazuki looks at him too gently to be true as he lifts his chin up with a finger so that they stare directly into each other's eyes. "The Government is cruel and will not hesitate to cut down even the most loyal of their servants." The crescents in his eyes glow in the dim light. "That is why I brought you here." There is almost gentleness in his voice.

Yamanbagiri narrows his eyes as he replies. "We are swords." He says, stating the obvious fact. "We must remain loyal to our master." It is an indisputable fact. Something ingrained in him from the time he was forged.

"I am loyal to my master." Mikazuki replies ominously as his fingers brush a blond lock of hair visible under the hood. "They want their starter back and the Government denied them that."

There is a dreading sensation in his guts as he stares at Mikazuki. "I am myself." He insists as he yanks his gaze away from Mikazuki's captivating eyes and shies away from his touch. "Your Yamanbagiri Kunihiro is long dead."

He hears Mikazuki exhale softly before he feels a hand wrapped around his neck. "You and I both know Tsukumogami can die many times as long as there is a saniwa to summon them." He says softly as he starts to add pressure on Yamanbagiri's airway.

It is uncomfortable and he tries to struggle against Mikazuki but he doesn't have much energy and is quickly pinned to the ground, helplessly at Mikazuki's mercy. "Please…"

He hates himself. Hates how he surrenders so quickly. Hates how weak he is to let Mikazuki do such things to him. Hates how he doesn't even resist those advances.

He waits, and waits, and waits.

There is always darkness surrounding him since Mikazuki took his eyes away.

His body is still sore from the last time he entertained Mikazuki. His limbs are heavy even without the chains – not that he can walk as the tendon in his legs have been cut – and he feels like his body weights more than what it is supposed to weight – considering he is nothing but flesh and bones.

The sound of the door opening reaches his ears and he perks up at the sound of Mikazuki's familiar steps.

"Welcome home." He says as the sound grows closer and closer before Mikazuki's hand lands on his hooded head. He pushes into the touch, savoring the warmth from Mikazuki with a small smile.

"Did you remember anything?" Mikazuki's voice is soft as his hand strokes Yamanbagiri's cheek.

It is always like this. Mikazuki will visit him and ask that question every time and he would shake his head and then they will have a small talk with some tea Mikazuki brought – or they will do some other things that he is not thrilled to remember, not when his body is too sore – and then, they'll go on their separate ways with Mikazuki back to whatever he was doing before his visit and Yamanbagiri waiting in this darkened place, looking toward to the next visit.

As usual, he shakes his head – even though Mikazuki keeps hoping and hoping for him to remember the time he spent with his Yamanbagiri, he is not that Yamanbagiri so he does have anything to remember – and hears a disappointed sigh as Mikazuki sits down and pours them some tea.

"I hope you remember soon." Mikazuki says softly as he brings the cup to his lips. The tea Mikazuki makes is always so good that it's hard to remember this is the one who slaughtered a citadel with dozens of experienced Tsukumogami. "The sooner you remember, the sooner we will be able to turn against the Government."

Yamanbagiri wants to laugh but he does not have enough energy to do that. All of the things he is doing, he is doing out of worry for his master. If he – their starter – breaks then what will happen to them? It is a question he doesn't intend to find out. Not when his master's sanity and life are on the line.

He will make sure his master survives even if he has to play this sickening game. He can't escape anymore, with his eyes gone and legs useless after that one and only attempt at escaping. But one day, they will find him again and he will wait for them.

Even if it means waiting for an eternity…

~Fin~

Note:

Inspiration struck me when I was sitting through an exam and this is the result of that sudden struck of inspiration and the stress for 4 continuous days of exams.

I was tempted to title this 'Despair' since that was what I felt during the time I was doing the exam but it's too dark of a name?